It’s a perfect, cloudless day here. The temperature is 78. Mild by recent standards. I was awake most of the night with intestinal problems. This is not at all unusual for me. As I have written lately, I used to have excellent meds for cruel pain. Then the Bolsheviks in D.C. and in Sacramento changed the laws.
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Without any meaningful data that told us Paregoric was going to kill us, the government put out a big red Verboten sign on Paregoric. Ever since, your humble servant has been in constant pain in my digestive system. There is no substitute as far as I am aware. Maybe the only substitute is suffering.
Elvis smiled at me and said, in his trademark voice, “Thank yew very much.”
My life revolves mostly around my goddess wife. We spend about five hours each day watching TV, usually old movies. Lately, we spend too much time watching a sequel to one of the greatest movies ever made — the original was Blade Runner. The second sequel is Blade Runner 2049. Please spare yourself and don’t watch it.
There is one fascinating fact about it, though: in 2049 there is a series of scenes in which the star finds himself in a nuclear-bombed Las Vegas. He wanders into a bombed-out casino, which, I think, is my favorite, “Wynn’s.” Out of the blue, Harrison Ford, looking pretty damned old and with a companion dog, starts shooting at Ryan Gosling. Then a holograph of ELVIS PRESLEY appears, singing “Suspicious Minds.”
The amazing thing is that I recall seeing that exact series of scenes in a much older film. I cannot recall what older movie that was except possibly Elvis — The Way It Is. My poor old brain won’t let me find exactly what the movie was. My wifey won’t recall it.
Anyway, when I see Elvis on screen, I am jolted back to a day in 1970 when I was having lunch with my Pop in the White House Mess. That was when Pop was Chair of the Council of Economic Advisers. Only persons of cabinet rank could eat there then and my father was allowed in.
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My father and I were eating alone. Pop leaned over to me and in a confidential tone asked me, “If you saw Elvis Presley in person a few feet away from you, would you recognize him?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Well, he’s sitting right behind you with Bob Haldeman. But don’t bother him.”
I subtly turned around and there was “The King” behind me. I ignored Pop’s order, got up and leaned into Elvis’s space.
“Mr. Presley,” I said, “everyone on earth is your fan. But I am your biggest fan.”
Elvis smiled at me and said, in his trademark voice, “Thank yew very much.” I shook his hand, apologized to Mr. Haldeman and to Pop, and that was that. But it was electric and still is.
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Much better than Blade Runner 2049.
READ MORE from Ben Stein:
When Paradise Overheats
My Life in Pain After the Government Took My Drug
Can’t Help But Wonder
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